


Busted Wings

by edwick96



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, OOC, Slow Build, at the end, really really heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 04:02:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7786027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edwick96/pseuds/edwick96
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about the complex male relationships that can form through trauma, love and compassion. After Daryl is rescued from Negans men, Rick takes care of him</p>
            </blockquote>





	Busted Wings

**Author's Note:**

> AU where everyone escapes from Negan, but Daryl is traumatised. Based loosely around the book "A Little Life," which you should read, and the image of Daryl with the blanket over him in the finale where he looks half dead because that image has stuck with me and made me wonder.

‘'Come on bud, just a few more steps, you can make it. Come on now I got you nothings gonna happen to you I’m here.'’ He tried another cheer up tactic, anything to get a response from the other man, “You’re stinkin' up my house bro and you gotta bathe at some point.” Daryl didn’t respond, no surprise, and rick chastised him, Daryl probably thought that was a rebuke.

They’d done this a few time’s since that night, Rick helping Daryl out of his room and into the houses shared bathroom, where he’d help the archer, -former archer- get undressed, into the tub, help him was up. There was nothing explicit happening, Rick was only there to help, Daryl Barely tolerated it but he obliged if Rick hounded him enough. Rick was trying to get him back into some form of normalcy, to move around, do the things that people do.

But at this point in time, looking at Daryl, shaky and emaciated, waiting for the tub to fill up, he didn’t look like a person. He looked like a husk. Worse than a walker, harder to look at, when remembers how things used to be, but since that night, since Negan the group had splintered into smaller groups, barely acknowledging each other as they passed through Alexandria, so it was up to Rick to look after Daryl.

Daryl who had had the worst abuse, the worst treatment at the hands of Negan’s men, Rick didn’t know the extent of it, how bad they treated him or exactly what they did. He saw the fresh cuts and slashes on Daryl’s back, darker, deeper, and more sinister than the ones Rick had seen before, when Daryl didn’t know he could see. Then there was the gunshot wound, festering and oozing. They had little medical supplies left since Negan had begun collecting half of their stash.

It had been hard, letting Negan take half of their supplies, but he didn’t want any more of his people hurt.

Rick shook the thoughts off focusing on the task at hand. He helped Daryl into the tub. The other man flinched and looked like he’d been hit when he touched the water.

“It’s ok, you remember right? We’ve done this before, nothings going to happen, the water will feel good.” Daryl looked at Rick, all shifty like, and lowered into the water, where rick began peeling off old bandages covered in blood and ooze, and washing the wounds with a damp cloth as gently as he could. Every touch, the archer flinched, expecting to be struck.

It hurt Rick to see him this way, so fragile, expecting pain or torture at every turn. What had they done to him?

The birds where worst. Any time Daryl heard the whistling of a bird he cried out, like he was physically in pain, and fell, hunched to the floor where he stood. Rick had to gently pick him up, sit him on the couch, trying to soothe him with touch when Daryl would allow it. It differed day to day, sometimes Daryl would allow Rick to grab his hand, running his hands over the cuts there, other times he might embrace the archer, more often than not, he kept his distance and allowed Daryl to come down slowly from whatever terrors where circulating inside his head, He’d hum to him, or tell meaningless stories in a low drawl. Daryl responded positively to Rick’s voice, the low rumble seemed to sooth him. 

Eventually, after each episode, Daryl would go limp, drenched in sweat, from fighting off his demons. Then he would sit, comatose on the couch.

He rarely responded when Rick spoke to the archer. A grunt here, a nod of the head there to acknowledge he was hearing what Rick was saying to him. He was obedient and pliant, letting Rick take care of him, move him around the house, feed him what little Daryl could stomach before throwing it back up again. Rick grieved for his friend, he wasn’t dead but he was less alive than a walker with its head cut off.

The Daryl from before wouldn’t let anyone coddle him, feed him, bath him, touch him even. Sometimes Rick forgets how the archer used to be, all gruff and full of strength and power. He had loved that man, like a brother, like family, his love for Daryl had no boundaries. The rest of the group where family as well, it would be hard to think of them as anything else after everything they had been through, what they had seen.

It was always different with Daryl though. There was always a spark that would light in Rick’s stomach when he saw the rugged archer, arms bare, ready for action. His heart yearned to grab out, to touch, to hold, in a way he hadn’t felt since his wife died. He’d been thinking on it for a while, since they first arrived at Alexandria, he pushed it aside as lust and nothing more, but now he knew how deep his feelings ran.

Nothing could come from it now, maybe never, he didn’t know if Daryl would ever get to a place where he could be intimate with someone, and rick would never force it. He had his suspicions, about the men who had captured Daryl, what they might have done to him. Daryl’s desire for that kind of contact may be lost forever.

This was the last thing on his mind. Right now he just needed to get the man he loved so deeply back on his feet. To pick up the jagged, sharp pieces of shattered glass Daryl had become and piece him back together, no matter how long it took.

Rick relived that night, that awful night where the world ended for the second time. His family lined up, and then they tossed out Daryl. The image will never leave his head. Barefoot and bloody, hunched to the ground, covering himself with a tattered old blanket, like a dog who had been whacked on the snout and was hiding in shame. His hair stringy, skin clammy, he though Daryl, like Maggie, wouldn’t need to be bludgeoned to death. Time would do Negan’s job for him. In his Dreams it was Daryl Negan picked, and Rick could never awake from the nightmare, not until Negan’s final blow, leaving Daryl Mangled and flattened like road kill. He’d wake up in a cold sweat screaming,  
He’d cry, pull himself together, check in on Daryl, see him sleeping fitfully, and try and cast the dream away,

Daryl had started having his own dreams. Rick would wake up to hear him, sobbing, crying out in pain, fighting off attackers in his sleep. This was he only time, When rick was permitted to hold him proper, to stop his shaking and thrashing, rick held him until his arms grew numb, and Daryl would come out of it.

One night, Daryl spoke, startling Rick after a particularly violent dream Daryl had been having.  
‘Rick?’ Daryl ask, his voice husky from disuse.  
“I’m here, its ok, they’re gone.”  
He heard the tears in Daryl’s voice. ‘Thank you,’  
Rick was so overwhelmed he began to cry himself, and held Daryl tighter, resting his forehead on nape of the archer’s neck. Daryl didn’t flinch.

After that, things seemed to improve. Daryl was more mobile. He padded around the house barefoot, quiet as a mouse. It was like he was noticing for the first time where he had been staying for the last few months. He began talking, in little snippets, a ‘thank you’ here or a ‘Rick?’ there when he was uncertain. Rick remained, and was always there when the other man called.   
He remained cautiously optimistic as Daryl began doing more for himself. Eating, taking showers, getting dressed. Rick remained vigilant.

One day Daryl came out wearing a sweater, Rick thought this was odd, it was warm inside the house but he didn’t question it. Fashion sense didn’t matter an inch in the scheme of things.   
Rick soon realized it did. Daryl was making toast for himself when rick walked past and and saw a blood red cut on the archers forearm.  
“What is that?” in all the time Rick had spent with him, Rick had never seen that cut before.  
“Darlin’ what’s that from?” Rick asked panicked, then chastising himself for the nickname, and how abrupt he addressed the other man. In his head Daryl was always darling or sweetheart or some other cherished name but he never said them aloud. Daryl couldn’t handle Rick’s own issues on top of his own trauma.

Daryl didn’t seem to notice the slip up, because he was too busy pulling down his sleeve, but Rick was terrified and moved towards him, grabbing Daryl’s arm a little more forcefully than he should have. Shoving the sleeve up he saw three crimson cuts, even parallel lines up the archers inner arm,  
Rick looked up panicked and angry.  
Daryl what the hell have you done, why did you to this.’  
Daryl shut down, reverting back, glassy eyed and looking terrified at Rick, fearing punishment for what he’d done. Rick softened his own face, trying for a more concerned expression.

“S’nothin’ rick I swear please don’t be angry, please I just needed it to stop I needed it out of my head.’ He was shaky and Rick let go of his arm, bracing himself on the counter, tears welling in his eyes.

Things had been good. Daryl had been improving, why would he do this, Rick struggled to understand. He struggled not to throw up,  
‘’You needed what out of your head?’ Rick said shakily, tears falling freely down his face.  
Daryl saw this and seemed to switch gears. Suddenly he was the one comforting Rick, what was happening?  
Daryl reached his hand out tentatively; Rick was confused, was holding hands supposed to fix this? He loved this man and to see him do something so… It hurt every fiber of his being. There was a pleading look in Daryl’s eyes and Rick finally took his hand.  
Suddenly Daryl was leading rick into the living room, and they both sat, neither looking at the other, it must have been half an hour before Daryl spoke. ‘I need to tell you. I need you to understand. About what happened’

“Daryl,” Rick pleaded “You don’t gotta do this. He couldn’t handle it, he wanted to hug Daryl, pepper him with kisses to stitch his stars together, to hag him so his broken pieces welded together.

“No I do…” Daryl said faintly, “I gotta get it out.”

It took him a long time for him to start. He started with small things, like how he was starved, sleep deprived, kept awake by a constant whistling, unable to go to the toilet. More pauses, he was struggling, like his tongue was stuck to his mouth and he couldn’t speak. 

Rick sat patiently, his insides burning, he was sure he was going to throw up. They told Daryl he was worthless, with every new torture with every new tactic to get information they repeated, “You are nothing. You have no one, no one is coming for you, you’re “family” hates you, thinks you’re a disgusting redneck.

“Daryl, please believe that’s not true please, we love you and we need you.” Daryl looked at him unsure, as if he where sneaking a different tongue. “You mean the world to me.” Rick pleaded.

He continued, much to Rick’s horror. He wanted Daryl to stop, for both of their sake, he couldn’t bear hearing what his friend had been through. But he had been wondering for months. What had made Daryl the way he was now? So he kept his mouth shut.

They cut him, whipped him, and pulled teeth, pulled fingernails. Rick had already seen evidence of this. He didn’t need to hear it. Then Daryl took a long pause. He began to shake. Violently.  
“Hey, hey Daryl stop, that’s enough you don’t need to-“ Rick couldn’t stand this, this was the worst day of his life, worse than the night with Negan.

‘They raped me.’ Daryl blurted, anger boiling in his face, “Every day, while they where torturing me, they’d take turns. They’d look at my back and say, “I bet this is how your dad used to do it. He treated you like the shit you are.” He was blurting the words out now, rapid fire, he was nearly finished. “They used things, it hurt. The bat.” 

Rick stood up wiping his face. “Enough. Daryl please. I need too… I need to…, he quickly ran to the kitchen and promptly threw up in the sink.

His love, his partner, what he’d been through, what they’d done to him, Rick couldn’t get the images out of his head. He threw up some more.

Daryl wasn’t worthless. Daryl was special, a one of a kind man, a man that inspired Rick, a man who challenged Rick, a man who had seen the worst of it all with Rick. 

But Rick hadn’t been there to save him. He didn’t know. He couldn’t imagine. He wanted Negan to suffer, to ram a spike through his greasy head, to burn him and let hell consume him. Nothing would be right again, not until Rick destroyed the man, wholly and painfully.

When Rick returned to the living area Daryl was gone. He heard a crash from the bathroom and ran.

The door was jarred shut. He pounded it with all his might, he threw his whole body at it until it splintered and fell off it’s hinges. 

Rick took a quick look at the room. The mirror was shattered and Daryl was holding a large shard of it to his wrist.

“Daryl’ he was shaking, it was a question, it was a warning, it was a plea.  
‘They where right weren’t they.’ Daryl said, his voice stony, not looking at Rick but his arm. 

‘I’m no good. I made you sick. You think I’m disgusting, ruined. I can tell you won’t see me the same. You won’t see me the same cuz I’m ruined and they where right. It’s better this way. You don’t have to throw up you don’t have to…” 

He trailed off, eyes glassy again. Rick took a few tentative steps forward. 

“Daryl. Daryl look at me, so you can see I’m telling the truth I need you to hear this.” Rick kept moving forward. Daryl noticed and gripped the shard tighter, it was cutting his hand. 

“You mean the world to me Daryl. You are m best friend. Don’t let strangers tell you I don’t care, I’m telling you now, you matter. I wasn’t throwing up because your repulsive. You could never be. They did that to you. It will never be your fault do you understand? I will never think less of you because of those monsters.”

Daryl was listening, he looked uncertain, unconvinced. He’d loosened the grip on the shard, the hand holding it hanging by his side.

“I been a burden since we met rick. You held a gun to my face.” Daryl was crying, “I’m trouble, I’m nobody.”  
“I didn’t know you Daryl, you where a stranger in a new world. Now I know, I know you. I love you.” The last sentence slipped out , Rick didn’t care. It was the truth. “I’ve never loved another person more as much as I love you. Every part of you. The parts they took from you. The parts I can help you get back. If you’ll let me.” 

Daryl was looking at Rick like he was a UFO or a Sasquatch, unbelieving but with a spark of hope. Rick covered the last few steps between them and carefully extracted the shard from Daryl’s hand.  
He put both his hands on Daryl’s shoulders. He didn’t cringe; he was still looking at Rick with wonder. 

“I will spend the rest of my life and yours” he emphasized the last word, this bathroom incident wouldn’t be repeated, Rick would make sure of it, “making you feel worthy. Of family, and friends and love. I know… You might not feel for me the way I do for you but that don’t matter a bit. I’ll always be there.”

Daryl burst into tears and buried his face into ricks chest, sobbing with his whole body, and Rick let him. He tentatively wrapped his arms in a comforting gesture around the other man and leaned his head on the other mans closing his eyes.

He’d avoided the worst of the worst. The unthinkable, and he was exhausted, but Daryl still needed cleaning up and care, so he went to work washing away all the blood. He wrapped a blanket tightly around his friend and led him to Daryl’s room, Daryl leaning in to Ricks arms, exhausted. He got him a drink of water, mindful of another flight attempt, and Daryl sipped tentatively.

Daryl consented to Rick setting up a makeshift bed on the other mans floor for the night, to make sure he got through it, and to make sure he didn’t try anything else.

He was aware that now Daryl knew his true feelings he was walking on eggshells. He had to be mindful. Set boundaries so the other man wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. He meant what he said. He didn’t care if Daryl only saw him as a friend, a carer, a pillar he could lean on. As long as Daryl was safe and alive, where Rick could see him, he was completely content. They both slept through the night, dreamless, exhausted.

They started taking visitors from the rest of the group, something Daryl would of never permitted before. Maggie and Michonne and Carl, and little Judith, who Rick had been visiting every night after Daryl went to sleep, Michonne had been babysitting.

Daryl was surprisingly good with the little girl, just like when she was first born. Her laughing and playing drew him out of his stupor. He smiled weakly as he played with her and Rick’s heart filled with warmth. He joked with Carl and had actual conversations with Maggie and Michonne. Rick sat in his seat, sighing in relief. He suddenly realized the toll looking after Daryl for so many weeks had taken on him. As he listened to the chatter of his kids and his friends, he slumped back, muscles relaxing, slowly drifting to sleep. 

He opened his eyes a few hours later to a silent room. He jerked away the last remnants of sleep as he looked around for signs of Daryl. His heart beat in his throat as he ran up stairs. Not in the bathroom, all the pieces from the broken mirror where still there.   
He moved down the hallway and peeked inside Daryl’s open doorway, finding the other man sitting on the closed windowsill, slouching, looking at the stars.

“What are you doing Daryl?” Rick asked groggily.

The other turned in a daze, until his eyes focused on Rick, with a lot more clarity than they had had in months. “Aw s’nothin. Couldn’t sleep is all and I didn’t want to bother you. You looked tired.” He said

Rick couldn’t suppress a smile, even after everything he’d been through Daryl was still looking after Rick, even when it was supposed to be the other way around. “What’s keeping you awake?” he asked hazily.

“Don’t rightly know…” Daryl said looking back out the window. “It’s just… You’ve done so much to help me… but I still feel like I’m falling apart. Like I can’t hold it all together.”

Rick sighed throwing caution to the wind, and sat on Daryl’s bed, “C’mere.” He said gesturing Daryl over to the bed. “No funny business I swear.” He swore he heard Daryl scoff at that but he couldn’t be sure. The archer wobbled over to the bed and sat next to Rick. The other man gestured and the both of them layed down.

“Ok I wanna try something,” Rick said, his palms sweating. “When you feel like this, like your splitting apart or you feel like doing something bad to yourself, you find me and grab on to me.” He carefully grabbed Daryl’s hand wrapping it around his own chest. “Hold on real tight, like we’re falling, hold on so tight that your arms burn, it will distract you, and when you let go, you’ll feel better.

It was an old trick his mother had used on him whenever he had a bad dream or there was a thunderstorm when he was a kid. He’d grab on to her like his life depended on it, and by the time he was done, his limbs and mind where so tired, he’d feel like he was floating, and fell right back to sleep. 

He tried to ignore the fact that he was essentially telling the man he had a schoolyard crush on, who had just gone through trauma to spoon him. It was the only idea he had left.

Daryl grabbed onto him weakly, wrapping his scarred arms around Rick and squeezing lightly. Rick couldn’t resist a giggle and Daryl looked up at him frowning. 

“C’mon darlin’ you can hold on tight, we’ve been through enough for you to know it’s not going to break me.”

Daryl grunted and started squeezing tighter and tighter. Rick took in a breath only now remembering how strong Daryl was and laid there. It hurt but he didn’t care. He rested his head on Daryl’s mop of hair and scrunched his eyes as the other man squeezed him so hard in began to bruise.

After a long while, Daryl’s grip began to loosen and he sighed contentedly sinking more comfortably into the bed.

“Mmm. M’arms feel like lead.” Daryl grumbled low into the mattress. Rick’s gut churned at the noise, suddenly he was uncomfortably aware of the position he was in. He didn’t want to push this.

“You feel better?” He asked the archer.

“Mmmm” Daryl sounded like he was drifting off.

“Ok well… I’ll just head down to my room, let you get some sleep,” Rick said regretfully, looking down at a peaceful Daryl, yearning.

As he began to move off of the bed he felt something grab his hand. Looking down he saw Daryl ‘s hand entwined in his.

“Stay,” Daryl said, tentatively, hopefully.

Rick inhaled. He felt the weight of the last few months hanging on his shoulders. Daryl had gone through so much, changed so much, and Rick had been there, hoping that one day Daryl might heal enough, and maybe, maybe they could be together. 

“Please..” Daryl added groggily and Rick melted. He shucked off his boots and layed in bed next to the man he loved, tangling their limbs together, his head leaning on Daryl’s again. He tentatively kissed the top of the other mans head, and Daryl responded by nuzzling deeper into Ricks side.

Slowly their lives regained a sense of normality, yet everything was different. He and Daryl began integrating back into the community. He felt more comfortable leaving Daryl in the house by himself, or with someone else in the group, cooking with Carol or farming with the Alexandrians. 

Rick and Daryl slowly began spending more intimate time together, different than before. Daryl began to trust Rick’s touch more and more. Rick never wanted to take advantage so they went at Daryl’s pace, no matter how much Rick wanted that extra hug or kiss, which Daryl eventually started to seek out himself.

They moved Judith and Carl back into the house. Looking after the baby really helped Daryl recover, and it made Rick smile every time he saw them together.

Rick and Daryl where getting ready for bed. They started sharing after that first night, Daryl feeling comfort lying next to Rick.

“Rick?” Daryl looked at the other man, all sincerity and bashful.  
“Yeah darlin’?” The pet names came out freely and easily now. He knew Daryl liked them, he’d see the corners of the archers mouth twitch whenever he called him sweetpea or love.

“I just wanted to thank you. For helping me through…. You know.”  
“It’s no problem,” Rick grabbed Daryl’s rough hand and kissed it, “It was all you. You’ve come out so much stronger. I couldn’t of just fixed you. That’s not how people or love work. You pulled yourself out of the dark, because you knew it could get better. I just made sure you got their safely.” He smiled down at the other man and kissed him lightly on the lips. 

They never went much further than that. Kisses, cuddles and sweet talk. Rick was truly content with this, because Daryl was ok, and Daryl wanted to do these things just as much.

“I love you.” Rick said, carding his hand through Daryl’s ridiculously long hair.

“I love you too.”


End file.
